


Shared

by afterandalasia



Category: Aladdin (1992), Cinderella (1950)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Community: disney_kink, Crossover Pairings, Cunnilingus, Desire, Happy Ending, Infidelity, Multi, Open Relationships, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are quite happy with each other, desperately in love and desperately passionate, they both agree that much. But sometimes Aladdin and Jasmine wish that they could share that love, and the lonely princess Cinderella seems like she might benefit from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared

**Author's Note:**

> From the [anon prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/361.html?thread=2185577) on Disney Kink:
> 
> _Aladdin and Jasmine are very happy together, but they also really like inviting people into their bed. Namely all those lonely princesses that are stuck in passionless marriages._

"Yes! Oh Aladdin, yes... yes!"  
  
Head thrown back, breasts heaving. With each thrust, it feels as if Aladdin is filling her up with more pleasure, more and more in building waves that pulse through her. She hooks one leg around his hips, opening up to him, as she feels herself draw closer and closer to the edge with his mouth on her throat and his cock buried deep in her, as if they have been made to fit this perfectly together, designed so that he hits the perfect spot every time.  
  
Aladdin can always tell when she is on the verge of orgasm. The way that her breathing goes quieter and she bites her lip, the way that her legs tighten against him and her hips press close, it is as clear as words to him, and he slips one hand between them to brush her clit as he steadies his thrusts, coaxing her along and drawing it out, until with a, "Yes yes _yes_ ," that starts as a breath and ends with a scream, she comes, heat rolling through her with her pleasure.   
  
Her husband whispers in her ear that he loves her, loves her when she comes like this, for him, how perfect they are, and she cannot even find the words to reply by the time that she opens her eyes again to look at him in the wake.  
  
"You are so perfect," she breathes, looping her arms around his neck. One of his hands strokes against her belly, holding still so that he can feel the clenches of her orgasm around his cock still deep inside her. "Here and everywhere."  
  
She cranes her neck to kiss him, sloppily and tasting of each other's skin, and with a filthy chuckle Aladdin begins to thrust into her again. She is still so sensitive, flesh tingling, that a moan escapes her lips from the very beginning, and she laughs and presses her breasts up into his chest teasingly.  
  
"More?" he asks, and the way that she rolls her hips against him is enough of an answer. "Fuck, Jasmine... I love you. I love you so much."  
  
"Don't I know it," she murmurs. She squeezes her deepest muscles to make him gasp, then plants her feet down against the bed and looks at him challengingly, a wicked glint in her eye. "Go on, husband. One more for the night."  
  
More than willingly, he obliges, and together they spiral into their perfection.  
  
  
  
  
  
Later, much later, Jasmine lies with her head on Aladdin's shoulder as they allow the night air to cool their skin. His hand strokes her shoulder gently, and she feels quite sure that she would purr if she were able to do so.  
  
"I'm so lucky to have you," she whispers, running her fingers over his wrist. He turns his head to nip her ear, and she giggles and swats him. "Really, Aladdin. I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
The memories of their pasts linger close sometimes, and though neither of them says it, it always makes them cling more closely to each other, fight harder for each other in bed. Jasmine rolls over onto her belly and nuzzles against him, their mingling scents a comfort.   
  
It takes a moment longer for Aladdin to say what they are both thinking. "I feel sorry for Cinderella. In a separate bedroom from her husband."  
  
"Maybe that's... how they do things in her kingdom." They can both hear in her voice that she doesn't believe it. "I made sure that the rooms were adjoining, so..."  
  
Both of them had been able to read it in the Prince's behaviour. How he spoke offhand to his wife, how her gentle touch to his shoulder or waist was not reciprocated. How her sweet blue eyes dimmed whenever she looked at him.  
  
"I wish we could do something for her..."  
  
  
  
  
  
It is Jasmine's idea. Aladdin is cautious at first, even, not sure why she was suggesting it, fearful that perhaps he is somehow not enough. She spends her time making it clear to him that she loved him still, and first, and best, but that she thinks that this would be pleasurable for both of them. So finally, on the night before Prince Charming and Cinderella are due to leave, he agrees, and in the barely-private hollow of an alcove she slides her hand between her thighs and his cock between her lips, leaving both of them trembling and desperate for release when they realise that they have tarried too late and must hurry to their final meeting.

Later that evening, Jasmine invites Cinderella to their chambers. She calls them their own, and doubts that the princess will know better, but advises Aladdin to hold back for now. He will know, she says, when it is the right time.  
  
Cinderella dresses very modestly, and Jasmine finds it both sweet and alluring together. The curve of the waist made untouchable by fine fabric, the glimpse of a leg as it shapes a skirt suddenly erotic. When she was younger, the first images in her head as she touched herself were of her handmaidens.  
  
They sit, and talk of feminine nothings, and eat dates and dip lokma into syrup heated over the small brazier. After a while, Jasmine's voice turns more sympathetic, and Aladdin watches as his wife shuffles closer, talking tenderly to Cinderella, and eventually planting a soft kiss to the woman's cheek.  
  
He can see the shy reaction, the surprise that poorly covers desire. He can read Jasmine's lips as she echoes the words she spoke to him before: "How long has it been since you knew a loving touch?"  
  
The flutter of Cinderella's eyes, and the way that her head bows, says it all. Jasmine reaches out to cup the foreign woman's cheek and leans in to kiss her again, on the mouth this time, slow and tender and pressing with her tongue. Aladdin knows how she kisses, gentle movements that still spell out her lust, her tongue a promise for the soft movements of her body, her teeth touching against lips in a way that seems almost accidental at first. He cannot help the momentary flash of jealousy that rises up in him at the sight, but she has reassured him that she loves him, that this is for desire. And at the same time the sight is so lustrous that he feels blood hardening his cock, watching as Jasmine caresses Cinderella's shoulders, cups her breasts through the fabric of her dress, leans closer so that the waves of their hair tumble together.  
  
Jasmine's hands knead gently at Cinderella's breasts, then slide up to loosen her blouse. It reveals the pearly skin of her throat, leading down to the shadow of her cleavage, and then Jasmine's flushed lips are pressed there, leaving faint marks in their wake as Cinderella surrenders, tremors rolling down her body and making her hair shimmer in golden waves. As the dress slides lower, Jasmine slips out of her top as well and the two press close together, breast to breast, the soft pants of their breaths mingling as they kiss.  
  
His hand slides to his cock, hard beneath his pants, but Aladdin swallows nervously as he steps into the room and moves closer towards them. Jasmine has lain Cinderella down onto the cushions and straddled her, hands on kiss, lips on throat. She looks up with a lustful light in her eyes and Aladdin gains courage to walk closer, unsure of wait to say. He does not manage to, though, before Cinderella's eyes chance upon him and she gives a squeal of shock.  
  
"I--"  
  
"Don't," whispers Jasmine. Her hand caresses the woman's back. "Don't worry. He knows. We agreed this." As Cinderella looks round, still worried, Jasmine gives her a tender smile and a gentle nip on the lips. "We both wanted to let you know that you are loved, desired, wanted."  
  
Aladdin sits down on the edge of the bed, and he can see the hesitation in Cinderella. He leans in to kiss her, Jasmine moving aside so that he is able to, and though at first the newcomer is tentative her mouth softens to him and he can feel the heat and the need on her skin. He brushes a hand against her arm, then her back, and she reaches out to touch his chest as Jasmine squeezes his thigh, letting him know that he timed his entrance perfectly.  
  
He and Jasmine know every inch of each others' bodies, every way that they can react to each other, but Cinderella knows neither of them, and they do not know her. There is no rush, and he takes his time in savouring the way that Cinderella's nipple hardens beneath gentle strokes of his hand against her breast, the way that her breath catches in her throat when he leans across and plays at pressing dominance over her, the way that her face flushes when Jasmine kisses her in turn and slides one hand beneath her pooled skirts.

It takes both of them to undress her, undoing the laces of her corset and sliding off the silk of her stockings. In return she is surprised -- and aroused, he can see that in her parted lips and her hooded eyes -- at how few layers they wear, at how with the removal of but one layer of cloth their bodies are freed to the world. She seems captivated by the colour of their skin, the way that Aladdin's hand looks on her breast, that Jasmine's hand looks on her thigh, the way that her own skin looks so pale when Jasmine guides her hand down between them. Cinderella's fingers part the dark curls between Jasmine's thighs and brush against the slick skin beneath; Aladdin can imagine the heat, the jolt of desire lancing from the contact, his imagination-memory only fuelled by the way that Jasmine rolls back her head and moans from deep in her throat, her body as taut and elegant as a bowstring.  
  
Then her head tilts forwards, and she leans in to kiss Cinderella, suckling on the woman's upper lip and teasing with her tongue. Her breasts sway, ripe and yearning, brushing against Cinderella's arm as her hips make little encouraging movements, guiding without having to say a word. Aladdin pauses from where his mouth has been on Cinderella's breast, leaving red marks and glistening spit on her skin, and glances across just in time to see Cinderella's first finger slide in to his wife's hot passage, to see the flex of the muscles in Jasmine's thighs as she signals her approval.  
  
Between them, they lay Cinderella back on the bed, her hair a wonderful golden mess, body hot and slick both from the Agrabah climate and their own attentions. Jasmine follows with her, as if between their mouths there are a thousand silent words passing, while Aladdin's lips trail lower down, over a stomach were only a little of the softness of royalty overlies the muscle, wondering whether the stories of her past might be true, with the muscles and the rough hands and her nervousness.  
  
Not that it matters. He nuzzles against the crook of her thigh, and parts her legs to spread her for him, and she is soft and womanly and perfect here between him and Jasmine. Her thighs tremble slightly beneath the trail of his tongue. Apart from Jasmine, he has never been this close to a woman's pussy before, and he cannot but take a moment to admire the sight, the delicate folds of her skin flushed with blood and shining with arousal, her hooded clit coy still, her golden hair only partially masking the true treasure there.   
  
A long, slow drag of his tongue allows him to taste her, and he feels as much as hears her gasp. Could her husband have not touched her like this? He cannot imagine being without the love and wonder that he shares with Jasmine. It only makes him the more determined to please her. Parting her folds gently with his fingers, Aladdin allows his tongue to sweep across her, allows her to grow accustomed to the touch, the warmth building through her, and judges by the rhythm of Jasmine's breathing that she has collected herself enough to maintain the work of her own hand.  
  
Only then does he turn his attention to her clit, soft at first with the flat of his tongue and almost wanting to hold his breath so that he can hear the sounds of pleasure that bubble up in Cinderella's body. They are almost tinged with surprise, as if unexpected. He traces curves and lines until he finds the angles which make her gasp the most and make Jasmine moan with transmitted pleasure, and then presses them harder, flicking with his tongue-tip until Cinderella is gasping into Jasmine's mouth and her hips are trying to rise to meet him.  
  
"Do you want him?" says Jasmine, her voice heavy with lust, moving her lips to Cinderella's jaw and speaking loud enough for Aladdin to hear as well. For a moment he slows, just sucking gently on her skin, to allow her more of the use of her mind. "Do you want him inside you?"  
  
It takes a moment for Cinderella to gather herself to reply. "I should not. My husband... there is always a chance..."

Jasmine breaks her off with a kiss. "I understand," she murmurs. The Prince may share Aladdin's dark hair, but not his tanned skin and possibly not the princess's bed. It would not do to take unwarranted risks.  
  
She tosses back her hair, letting free another wave of her scent, and Aladdin becomes acutely aware of the aching desire in his cock. Without thinking he wraps his hand around it as he kneels up, relieved by the pressure, and allows himself a moment to wonder how it was that the giggling-whispered fantasies of his youth could have come true and yet have been even more perfect than he had imagined.  
  
There is a smirk on Jasmine's face as she looks at him, and he knows immediately that she has some wicked plan still remaining. She plants one hand on his chest and pushes him backwards; he does not even play at fighting. Pulling his wrist away, she pauses for a moment and looks at him, eyes smouldering, holding his gaze as she wraps both of her hands around his cock and slowly starts to stroke him.  
  
Her hands are slick; he realises that it must be with her own arousal, and if he were not already hard the thought would be enough by itself. The lowering of her eyes announces what she will do next, and Aladdin is already biting his lip by the time that he feels her lips against the head of his cock, parting slowly to take him in, letting her tongue just touch him before pulling back.  
  
"Fuck," he breathes, because the smell of sex is in the air and the taste of it on his lips, and Jasmine always knows just how to taunt him with her tongue. "Jasmine, please, yes..."  
  
He almost misses the fingers that brush tentatively over his thigh, the kiss that is pressed to the side of his hip, until he turns his eyes away from the canopies above them to see that Cinderella has joined his wife, is watching closely and then, as Jasmine breathes something obviously meant for just the two of them, glances up with burgeoning courage alongside her desire to catch his eye. If he had thought her attractive before, it is nothing compared to how she looks now as she reaches in to press her tongue against the head of his cock in turn, tasting, testing him.  
  
For an instant he thinks that he will come there and then. But Jasmine's fingers are sliding round beneath his balls and pressing gently, just enough for him to recover himself, even as Cinderella wraps a hand around his shaft and takes more of him into her mouth, sweeping her tongue over his skin and still breathing heavily with lust. Jasmine's tongue sweeps up the side of his cock, Cinderella draws back to copy the motion, and then he struggles to hold himself together as the two women take control of him, two mouths and two tongues and four hands to do to him as they wish. The sucking pressure just beneath the head; the possessive hand wrapped around his balls and massaging them; the feel of two tongues together against his slit as one set of breasts rubbed against each of his thighs; it blurred together and left him pliant and shaking beneath them.  
  
"Are you ready?" he hears Jasmine say, over the pounding in his ears. He isn't sure if the words are meant for him, but he nods anyway, because his whole body is aching with need and with desire.  
  
Jasmine gently shifts Cinderella first, so that she is straddling Aladdin's belly with her back towards his face, and he cannot see what his wife is doing until he feels a hand wrapped around his cock and he is guided into her. The tight muscles of her walls squeeze around him, just once, as if in greeting, and without thinking he reaches to grip Cinderella's hips to steady himself. A hand -- Jasmine's, doubtless Jasmine's -- slips down between his stomach and Cinderella's cunt, and he feels wetness on his skin as Cinderella presses down against them both.

The shifting of Jasmine's hand matches the held-back cry that rises in Cinderella's throat, and he knows that those clever fingers must have found their way inside, the heel of her hand or her thumb still providing firm pressure against the clit outside. He has seen her position her hand in the same way on herself, both of them holding each other's gaze as they touch themselves and display their pleasure to each other. Then they are kissing again, wet and noisy this time, and Aladdin groans and tries to lift his hips, but cannot with the weight on them.  
  
He grunts with pleasure and relief when Jasmine begins to ride him, the muscles of her thighs holding her, her movements dictating the pleasure of them all. He never ceases to wonder at how she feels around him, fitted so perfectly tight, her depth perfect for his length, her walls pleasurably tight around him. This time, though, he can feel also Cinderella's need where she grinds against Jasmine's hand and his stomach, hear her moans mingling with Jasmine's on their lips, and when Jasmine's hand starts to move with a steadier rhythm, the movement of Cinderella's hips shifts to meet it. It is maddening, unable to take his wife harder as she maintains her maddening pace, although he can feel the shifts in her muscles as she grows more aroused, hear it in the sounds that she makes. By now, he should be fucking her hard, and she would usually be begging for him to do so, but he understands in a flash that she wants for Cinderella to come first, to be the first one to reach completion.  
  
His hands slide up their guest's back, reaching round to cup her breasts in his hands. It makes her give a sound that is almost a mewl, a sound which jolts straight through him.  
  
"There?" Jasmine says, and even one word can sound filthy on her lips.  
  
Cinderella nods, then manages to speak with a tight and needing voice: "Yes, there, justthere justthere-"  
  
Aladdin feels it as she comes, warmth rushing against his skin, her muscles tightening, Jasmine's hand drawing forth with each sudden thrust of her hips. He has to use his hands to steady her, and feels her shaking and her body tightening though she does not cry out, her pleasure locking tightly around her.  
  
In the wake of it, she is panting, and he can hear that Jasmine's kisses are softly pressed, can feel that her hand is gentle now between them. At the same time, she shifts her weight to free his hips, and he takes the invitation, deepening his thrusts into her, drawing almost all the way out before plunging back in, hitting those centres of pleasure deep within her on each one. He can see the look of hunger and pleasure on her face as she draws herself up, over Cinderella's bowed head, her eyes fixing on his and the smile on her lips becoming lost only as they part to let out a cry of pleasure as his hips move harder, faster; when she tilts her hips against him he trusts her in doing so, and within moments she tenses, holding on for just a few second longer before she cries out his name and her orgasm takes her.  
  
Shudders run down her, her innermost muscles clenching their fast rhythm around his cock, and Aladdin breathes hard as Jasmine rides him still, drawing out a second cry with his thrusts, the waves still high in the wake of it, and because he can take it no longer he lets go of his control, and in only a few more thrusts comes within her with a thundering in his ears and her name on his lips.  
  
Afterwards they lie together on the pillows, Cinderella in the middle, either Aladdin or Jasmine from time to time pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder or stroking a hand over their thigh. For a while they do nothing but murmur endearments to each other, whisper about how good it all felt, and then Cinderella draws both their arms around her so that they are twined more tightly.  
  
"Thank you," she says quietly, but there is no sadness in her voice. "Thank you both so much. It is good to know that there is still desire."  
  
Aladdin plants a kiss on her temple, but it is Jasmine who replies. "There is plenty of desire, and it is not lost from you."  
  
"My husband... loves me, in his way," Cinderella continues. "Even if his way is not this. There is plenty that he has done for me, and I know we mean a lot to each other."

"Tell him." The words leave Aladdin's lips before he has had much thought for them. "If he loves you still, even if it is not in this way, he will want you to be happy."  
  
She smiles dazzlingly, and leans up to kiss him on the mouth in return. Her tongue is gentle, and she tastes of all of them together. "I am happy," she says, and it does not sound a lie. "Quite... perfectly happy."  
  
  
  
  
  
Cinderella and Jasmine embrace tightly when it is time for her to leave, and the Prince comments to Aladdin how glad he is that she considers herself to be among friends here. Aladdin cannot quite look him in the eye when he agrees. But Cinderella looks radiant, her Prince does not seemed to have noticed her absence, and as they walk towards the carriage she slips her arm boldly through his, and he looks surprised but pleased that she has done so.  
  
That night, Jasmine whispers in his ear exactly what she did to Cinderella, and he demonstrates his own actions in return. When they are sated they sleep curled up in each other's arms and in the morning both are reassured that they are as deeply in love and as perfectly happy as they ever were.  
  
It is some months before the next visit from another state comes. This time it is Aladdin who sees the way that Prince Eric does not respond to Ariel's affections as deeply as one might expect, and it is he who murmurs the suggestion into Jasmine's ear. Ariel's red hair shines in the Agrabah sunlight, and she is affectionate and curious, and Aladdin thinks that there might be a glitter of interest in her eyes when he smiles at her.  
  
Jasmine brushes his arm, winks at him, and goes to talk to the princess. They have found the world that they love, and they do not fear sharing it.


End file.
